


Differences

by tsunbathing (bluebelle)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate History, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 04:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebelle/pseuds/tsunbathing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feliks can't stand Toris. Toris can stand Feliks a little better. Neither of them really want to do this alliance thing, but somehow they end up sharing a house and a life anyway.</p>
<p>(started out as another what-if fic (what if they didn't get along right away?) and turned into more of a "<i>why</i> wouldn't they get along, and what would happen?")</p>
            </blockquote>





	Differences

The last thing Feliks wants from this boy is an alliance.  
  
Feliks has heard rumors about him, of course. He's brave, they say, a strong fighter. Disciplined. It shows in his straight-backed posture. He is strangely polite, Feliks thinks, but in his eyes there is something that almost resembles a challenge.  
  
It makes Feliks nervous. And when Feliks gets nervous he says things he shouldn't. Before he can stop himself he's asking the boy to show him his dick, which is really not the best impression to make on a stranger. Feliks vomits up the words anyway. His boss and the other nobles are horrified, but the other boy only looks surprised (okay, shocked) for a second before responding that he will if Feliks will do the same.  
  
That embarrasses him more than anything. Toris (his name is Toris, right?) actually smiles. His boss chuckles and tries to pass it off as boys being boys or something like that. The talk moves on then. Toris seems perfectly calm, and Feliks feels an overwhelming urge to hit him.  
  
The rest of the diplomacy continues without much help from either of the nations, and someone (Feliks has a sneaking suspicion that it was one of their bosses) has decided they need to get to know each other. Feliks doesn't want to get to know Toris. Feliks wants to spend the rest of the day as far away from Toris as he can possibly get. But Toris, it seems, is relatively obedient where his boss is involved. He goes outside with Feliks and they sit under a tree while Feliks makes up a list in his mind of all the things he'd rather be doing.  
  
His new ally smells a little of earth, as though he had rolled around in the dirt before he came to visit. It adds to the strong air of peasantry around him. He looks clean enough, certainly, but his clothes are much plainer than Feliks'. His hands are too big for him, and rough, and now that Feliks sees him up close he looks more like a farmer than a warrior.  
  
Feliks looks at his hands, at the grass, at anything that isn't those sharp green eyes. Toris is staring at him, he can feel it, but he won't allow himself to look up. His cheeks feel warm. And then Toris speaks again, but this time it seems almost friendly. As if he hadn't just made a fool of Feliks twenty minutes ago.  
  
What does he like to do in his spare time, where is his favorite place, what does he like to eat? The other boy wants to know. Feliks picks at the grass and keeps his answers short. He doesn't ask anything of Toris, doesn't want to know _anything_ about Toris, but then the other boy wonders aloud why he said what he said back in the throne room. Feliks frowns. He hadn't meant to say anything. It had just happened, the way broken vases just happened.  
  
Toris plows ahead with that without any help from Feliks, but now Feliks is looking at him. There's that challenge in his eyes again, but his voice sounds oddly strangled, as though he's trying not to laugh. Feliks' flush deepens. "You were trying to intimidate me, weren't you?" Toris says, and the little smirk tugging at his mouth says what his words do not: 'it's not going to be that easy.'  
  
"I wasn't," Feliks insists. It sounds like a lie even to his own ears. Maybe he had, in a not-entirely-conscious way. He doesn't want to get introspective in front of Toris, so instead he pouts. And gives Toris a challenging look of his own, one that says 'I dare you to call me a liar.'  
  
Toris really does smile then, and it's a nice smile. Feliks wants to hit him for that, too, because it's hard to be mad at someone who's smiling. "We're both boys. There's no problem with it." Toris says that so flippantly that Feliks can't believe the words have actually come out of his mouth. And then Feliks does hit him.  
  
___  
  
The wedding is a few days later. Feliks is nervous, so nervous that he feels faint. His knees are shaking as he takes his place near the front of the cathedral, and he has to remind himself several times that he isn't the one getting married.  
  
Toris arrives just a few minutes after he does, and he looks pale. His clothes are nice, for once. The blue looks handsome on him, and Feliks wonders if he chose it himself. Probably not. His hair is pulled back by a neat ribbon, and Feliks can see where the skin of his neck looks clammy underneath it. The surge of pity he feels surprises him, and he shifts to stand a little closer to Toris.  
  
The ceremony is long. There are many traditions to be upheld and vows to be taken. Both nations sit through everything without complaint, but by the end they are both tired and irritable. Toris stretches out when the benches empty, and he yawns. Feliks finds himself watching and then blinks and stops.  
  
By some unspoken agreement they stay in the cathedral long after the other guests have left. Feliks prays without having a particular reason to, but then the words come to him and his prayers are for himself and his people, and maybe even a little bit for Toris.  
  
Toris seems not to be in any particular rush to leave, but he does get up and pace in front of the altar. His steps are surprisingly soft and Feliks barely hears him, but he sees the movement out of the corner of his eye.  
  
The nervous energy in the room makes Feliks frown. "Can't you sit down or something? Or just stand." Toris does just stand, but now he is staring at Feliks in a not-so-friendly way. "It's really distracting, okay!" Feliks isn't sure why he has raised his voice, but it feels good and he doesn't want to stop. He stands, and it's annoying that he has to tilt his head back to look into Toris' face, but he does it and his hands curl into fists.  
  
Toris looks taken aback for just a moment, his eyebrows shooting up to hide under his bangs, but then he frowns again. He is strangely pretty up close, a voice notices in the back of Feliks' head. His eyelashes are thick and long, and his lips seem like they would be soft...  
  
They are too close. Some part of him realizes that, and when his heart starts pounding he can't tell if he wants to punch Toris again or do something even more dangerous. He has heard, of course. Other nations sometimes seal their alliances with more than marriages between their leaders. Sometimes they even marry amongst themselves, and when Feliks remembers this it makes his face heat up. Toris looks like he might be aware of it, too, and the anger in his face is slowly turning into curiosity and something else that Feliks doesn't dare put a name to.  
  
He steps back and Toris steps forward to catch himself. The other boy had been leaning in, Feliks realizes, and a giggle bursts out of him before he can stop it. He can't meet Toris' eyes again, and he puts several strides between them before he dares to face him.  
  
Toris, to Feliks' embarrassment and annoyance, looks like he's going to laugh.  
___  
  
The party after the ceremony is perfect, Feliks thinks. He's very fond of parties, especially if he knows the people there, and if there's good food and drink. Those things are everywhere at this party, and that makes it perfect. Or nearly perfect. The only downside is that he has to sit with Toris while they eat.  
  
For his part, Toris doesn't seem to mind all that much. Feliks is surprised to learn that his new ally is so social. He spends most of the meal chatting with his own nobles, but more than once he turns to Feliks and makes a comment or asks a question. He is smiling again, but it's a different smile than Feliks has seen on him before. The kind of smile brought on by good company and good food and just a little too much good beer. It suits him, Feliks thinks, and more than once he has to make himself look away.  
  
Their knees brush under the table. The first time Feliks jolts away as if he's been burned, and it almost feels like he has. The second time is deliberate, on his part, and Toris looks at him with a question in his eyes. He doesn't pull away, though, and Feliks fights the heat rushing into his neck.  
  
After that, somehow, it's more natural. They reach for something at the same time and their elbows bump together. Toris leans in a little too close to whisper something and his hair brushes Feliks' cheek. Once Toris even manages to grab Feliks' hand instead of the roll he is reaching for, and he apologizes with a little chuckle. Feliks' hand tingles when he lets go.  
___  
  
No one has told Feliks where Toris is meant to sleep. Maybe everyone else forgot that small detail, but it's getting late and Feliks doesn't know what to do. Their hands are twined together and Feliks doesn't know how that happened, but he doesn't pull away and neither does Toris.  
  
He doesn't bother with finding anyone to ask about it. They're all drunk or asleep or both, anyway, so instead he hesitates at his own door. "Just for tonight, okay?" he hears himself saying. "We'll definitely get you your own bed tomorrow, but it's late and I'm too tired to figure out where there's an empty room." It is a fib, maybe, but a little one, and Toris doesn't seem bothered by the idea.  
  
Feliks is nervous. Nervous about sleeping in the same bed as Toris and nervous about undressing in front of him and nervous about the direction of his thoughts. Neither of them does anything for a while after the door closes, but without realizing Feliks puts the width of the room between them. They just watch each other from opposite sides, and Toris looks like he wants to say something. Feliks wishes he wouldn't.  
  
But he does. Of course he does. "Should we…?" he begins, and he seems hesitant, maybe even apologetic. Feliks feels a pang of surprise again because he's _nervous_. And if Toris is nervous there's no hope of him staying calm himself. He sits on whatever is closest, which happens to be the bed, and watches the other boy. Toris' eyes dart around the room and land on Feliks again, and he's not quite looking at Feliks' face but that's probably just as well because the blond's cheeks are burning. "I mean, do you want to…" He doesn't seem able to finish that sentence for some reason, but somehow Feliks knows what he's asking.  
  
His heart pounds in his ears again, louder than when they were in the church. It seems to fill the entire room, and he's almost sure Toris can hear it, can tell everything he's thinking. Which would be very bad indeed because some part of him wants to say yes. A very persuasive part of him. He tries to ignore it.  
  
"No way," he blurts, a little too fast, and something that might be insult crosses Toris' face. It's too quick to be sure, though, and Feliks isn't in much of a state to confirm it. His face is as red as his coat had been that day, he imagines, and he's trying not to stammer over his words. "I mean, we can't! We can't. We're not even married, right?"  
  
He knows as soon as the words are out of his mouth that it is the right thing to say. Toris visibly relaxes, his shoulders drooping a little. "Right, of course not," he says, and sits on the bed as well. Not too close, and maybe even a little farther than Feliks wants him to be. "I just wondered." Because of the wedding today, Feliks fills in. Because he's not sure what they're supposed to be to each other, either. Toris is surprisingly easy to read, he realizes. His face shows everything.  
  
Feliks' bed is large and he likes it that way. It means he can stretch out when he wants to, and now it's a convenient way of keeping space between them. They lie on opposite sides with their backs to each other and several feet of empty space between them, but when Feliks wakes up the next morning his face is pressed into Toris' chest and the other boy's arm is around his waist. Feliks doesn't pull away.


End file.
